


Summer Calm, Amethyst Lightning

by ryukoishida



Series: Hum of the Swords [2]
Category: Free!
Genre: First Kiss, I hope y'all are ready for this, M/M, rōnin AU, so much sword fighting, swordsmen au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-05-04 19:13:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5345483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryukoishida/pseuds/ryukoishida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time it’s happened, he can attribute it to a happy coincidence. The second time it’s happened, he figures it might warrant a little suspicion. But the third time it happens, Sousuke has just about enough. Or: two times Haruka and Sousuke maybe-accidentally touch, and the one time Sousuke makes it count.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Summer Calm, Amethyst Lightning

**Author's Note:**

> Written for SouHaru Week 2015 [Day 3: AU]
> 
> I’d recommend reading the first part “Winter Gale, Emerald Waters” or this might not make much sense. The sword-fighting scenes are just self-indulgent at this point. I’m not even sorry.

The first time it happened - their fingers lightly brushing against each other's as the blue-eyed swordsman silently passed him a bottle of sake over loud chatters at dinner, and the way he averted his gaze, a hint of red dusting his pale cheeks, perhaps from inebriation or perhaps from something else entirely unrelated - he can attribute it to a happy coincidence.

 

The second time it happened was after they'd returned from an especially messy trip from the neighbouring province, where the entire team had been assigned to protect Lord Tachibana Takeo and his eldest son the young lord Makoto as they visited the governor there to discuss the possibility of cooperation in regards to resolving the increasing problem of roadside bandits that had been robbing travellers and teams of merchants in the last few months.

 

On their return trip, they encountered said bandits - nimble on horsebacks, quick with their swords, and foolishly fearless with their insults and threats as they surrounded the Tachibanas and their bodyguard team of seven highly-trained swordsmen.

 

They defeated the bandits, of course, though the fight itself wasn't without a few instances of narrow escapes for them. Mikoshiba Momotarou, the cheerful and loud-mouthed youngster whose sword-fighting style is as playful and agile as his personality, suffered a shallow gash on his upper arm, and even Matsuoka Rin, the occasionally hot-headed martial artist whose style resembles the flashy, dancing flames of wild fire, earned some cuts on his newly purchased haori, which he was still unhappily grumbling about on their way home while young lord Makoto was already planning to get his friend a new one.

 

The most surprising to see was perhaps Yamazaki Sousuke, the rogue-rōnin-turned-good who strikes fear and admiration in people with his double-bladed sword style, had also bored a thin incision along the side of his cheek. 

 

The cut had long stopped bleeding when they finally entered their sleeping quarters that evening, but while the others had rushed to the public bathhouse to wash off the blood and grime of that day's travels, Haruka had stayed behind with Sousuke, the former insisting that he should clean the injury before it got infected and ruined his damn face. Haruka blinked, alarmed and looked about to dig a hole to hide when he realized belatedly the words that had just came out of his mouth. 

 

"Why Nanase-san, I didn't realize you'd be that concerned about my face. Something caught your eye?" There was a teasing grin tugging at the corner of Sousuke's lips, his usually reserved, teal eyes were bright with impish mirth. The stoic man smiling was such a rare sight that it took Haruka about half a second too long to recover, only to find himself sputtering unintelligibly. 

 

"You made it so easy for people to tease you," Sousuke chuckled, and proceeded to retrieve a small pot of ointment from the cupboard. "No wonder Matsuoka-san won't leave you alone."

 

"We're not like that..." Haruka felt the dire need to explain - to defend something, though he wasn't sure what, exactly. He just knew that he was uncomfortable with the assumption that Sousuke was making. 

 

When he took a seat at the table, he saw that the commander of their little troop had a moist cloth and a basin of clean water laid out neatly. 

 

He murmured a "thanks", a hand already reaching out for the cloth, but Haruka was faster, and Sousuke glanced up, dark brows raised in confusion.

 

"Let me," Haruka said simply and folded himself into the seat adjacent to Sousuke's before the taller man even had a chance to utter a reply.

 

As he gently cleaned the dried flakes of blood and dirt around the injury, neither of them spoke a word - just steady breathing and careful fingers, occasionally stopping when Sousuke hissed at an especially sharp sting that made him wince. 

 

"Sorry," Haruka said, tone quiet and the hard-edged oceanic blue of his eyes turning into something softer, more inviting and kind, like the unobtrusive shade of the surface of a lake in the bloom of summertime. It was unintentional - this subtle change that Sousuke would have otherwise missed were he not sitting so close to the other man - and he vaguely wondered what that meant. 

 

He didn't have too long to ponder about it, however, and he was thankful for the distraction. 

 

"You were being especially reckless out there," Haruka was saying, and Sousuke snapped his head up to stare straight at the dark-haired swordsman's comment.

 

"What do you mean?" 

 

So he noticed, Sousuke mused, dark cryptic eyes averting Haruka's quiet scrutiny as he looked slightly to Haruka's left side. Of course he did. 

 

"There was no need for you to engage them at such close proximity," Haruka said, dropping the stained washcloth into the water basin and taking the small container of ointment into his hands. "It looked to me as if you were trying to communicate with them in discreet, like you didn't want us to see the exchange. Is that not true?" 

 

"Are you actually an omnipotent god, or do you enjoy prying into other people’s business?”

 

‘I’m merely concerned,’ Haruka didn’t say it out loud – didn’t need to.

 

“Would you believe me if I tell you that those bandits – a few of those men – had been my comrades from the Samezuka clan?” His eyes darkened into a stormy shade and his fingers gathered into tight fists, and after a few heartbeats, he released a long, measured breath before continuing. “The ideals they’ve believed in and followed all their lives were discarded once Sugimoto-sama passed away and the young master took his place; they had nowhere to seek refuge when they were cast out. I just wish that they were given second chances as Makoto-dono has done for me.”

 

“You saw yourself in their shadows,” Haruka ventured carefully as he dabbed the comfrey ointment delicately across the cut.

 

“I saw what I could’ve become if you didn’t come along,” Sousuke corrected him, a corner of his lip twitching upward – not really a smile but a mocking, self-depreciating jeer.

 

“You sought us out first, remember?” Haruka’s gaze veered upward to meet Sousuke’s, and the agitation in the man’s teal depths only lessened slightly.

 

Sousuke remembered only too well – that burning desire to seek a formidable opponent, to fight until his bones creak and his muscles ache and his will swayed; he had found all of that in Nanase Haruka, and he had stayed by his side ever since their first encounter in a storm of cherry blossom petals that spring evening.

 

“It was you that I wanted,” Sousuke reminded him wryly.

 

“My life, you mean.”

 

“I think we both knew that I’ve never stood a chance against you,” Sousuke said, the haunting, sinister smile growing into a more benign grin.

 

Haruka’s fingertips were just a touch warmer than Sousuke’s skin, and where his fingers had traced a moment too long, the lingering ghost of heat remained.

 

The third time it happens, Yamazaki Sousuke is almost certain that Nanase Haruka, the legendary swordsman who may have saved him from a lifelong road of self-destruction and darkness had he not invited him to join the Tachibana clan more than a year ago, is doing this on purpose. Just like the manner with which he manipulates his beloved sword, every movement is deliberate and every arc and flash as simple as it is deadly. His touches - accidental or otherwise - seem to carry similar degree of caliber: subtle yet lethal. 

 

The crescent moon hangs in the star-studded sky, its frail curve giving off a soft, watery light that scatters across the back of his hand, milky pale. His two swords sit beside him on the deck.

 

It’s another sleepless night and Sousuke has grown used to it – this peaceful silence occasionally interspersed by the rustling of leaves overhead. There had been so many nights like this before, but it was a kind of deep, thick stillness that suffocates and swallows, the kind that, with a restless, troubled heart, only intensifies the nameless wrath that resides within his body. Yet while counting his days spent with the other swordsmen in the Tachibana clan, Sousuke finds that it’s been easier to breathe, and his sense of loss is gradually dissipating; replacing it is a slow-burning surge of warmth at the awareness that he may have found a place where he belongs after he’s lost his first home.

 

“Yamazaki-san.”

 

Sousuke’s shoulders stiffen in defense as the floorboards creak under the weight of another person who’s standing just a pace behind his sitting figure. In the silence of the night, Haruka’s voice – clear and silvery as the moon above them – pulls him in like currents and lulls him like an serenade. “Unable to sleep again?”

 

“You as well, Nanase-san?”

 

“Mm.”

 

Haruka steps off the ledge, landing light on his feet as his navy blue hakama sweeps majestically behind him, and turns to face the teal-eyed swordsman, the smallest hint of mirth glimmering in his eyes. “Shall we have a practice session in the courtyard?”

 

Sousuke blinks blankly at the man’s unexpected suggestion. “Will it not wake the others up at this hour?”

 

“Come,” Haruka turns briskly away, adding, “and leave your swords.”

 

Under any other circumstances, Sousuke would have never gone anywhere without his twin swords. His weapons are his only line of defense – a part of his body and identity – and he has learned from a very young age that when you have nothing else, your weapons become your sole chance that can guarantee your survival.

 

Sousuke immediately comprehends Haruka’s intention when the slighter man snaps off a few slender but supple branches off one of the many willow trees planted in the courtyard. He throws two of them towards Sousuke, who catches them easily.

 

The elegant branches bend and flick with every deft movement of his wrists, the wispy and narrow leaves at the end whispering soft nothings as they rub against each other in the breeze. They are lighter than his swords, but that just means that Sousuke can operate them with more ease and speed, and catching Haruka’s gaze – blue flames challenging him wordlessly in the near-darkness – Sousuke can feel his heart thudding in anticipation of a good fight.

 

He watches quietly as Haruka gets into his starting stance, the makeshift sword secured in his firm grip on his right side by his waist with the tip of the branch pointing backwards; part of his face has been casted in shadow and his hair, black as ink and tied up in a low ponytail, glimmers a blue sheen under the moonlight.

 

Sousuke positions himself accordingly as well, placing one branch before him in a defensive pose while his dominant hand holds the other branch with the tip aimed towards his opponent.

 

They begin circling each other, breaths synchronized, cautious eyes narrowing in the dark attempting to catch the slightest movement and muscles tensing in readiness.

 

“Yamazaki-san, I’m waiting,” Haruka drawls, tone tinged with something akin to boredom, but Sousuke knows it’s just the man’s method to taunt him into reacting first.

 

“Well, if you insist,” Sousuke flashes a quick grin at him, knees bent, and he shoots forward without another warning, his long strides carrying him within the radius of Haruka’s offense with only a few steps, and he ducks when the blue-eyed swordsman sweeps his branch in a horizontal strike, the sharp snap of the elastic wood too close for Sousuke’s comfort.

 

Once he’s within Haruka’s attacking range, Sousuke knows it’s almost impossible to avoid a close combat, but this is what he strives for – what he lives for: this exhilaration, the sweat drenching his brows, the white noise in his mind filled with the sounds of heavy breathing and the metallic euphony of clashing swords, and the sweet ache that comes after combat.

 

They have had training sessions before, but they mostly took place during the daytime with ample sunlight and they were armed with their own swords. He’s never managed to overtake Haruka in a one-on-one duel.

 

Without the familiar solid weight in his hands, though Sousuke feels that he’s moving with a lot more nimbleness than usual, he’s unable to release the maximum power of Aoi Umi Sōryū Ryū. The destructive force in the form of two sea dragons embodied in his katana and wakizashi is significantly diminished, but Sousuke is certain that using tree branches instead of real swords is only part of the problem.

 

The sharp cracks and thwacks of wood against wood have awakened the birds residing in the courtyard, and they flutter clumsily away at the untimely intrusion.

 

Within the span of fifteen minutes, Sousuke is already finding himself losing his breathing pattern, each exhale comes out in short, rapid bursts. His arms are still steady, but the leaves of his branches have been shredded off clean by the mere gale of Haruka’s relentless attacks.

 

“Don’t think of them as branches; don’t think of them as something more inferior than your swords,” Haruka murmurs a reminder, his breaths balanced and frame maintaining the elegance of a dancer. “Treat them as if they’re an extension of your limbs, like they’re part of you.”

 

“Easier said than done,” Sousuke grits out. He understands what Haruka is saying in theory, but to put it into practice is an entirely different matter.

 

He relaxes his grip a little at the other man’s suggestion, however, and allows his arms to spread wide, tips of his makeshift blades pointing to the sides. The faint lighting and shifting shadows transform Sousuke’s hazy shape into one of a mesmerizing mystical being with glowing sea-green eyes and outstretched skeletal wings, incapable of flight but the strength that seeps bone-deep is enough to crush anyone daring to close in.

 

Haruka senses the slight change from the other swordsman, too. Sousuke’s previous uncertainty – from the awkward way he holds the branches to the inconsistencies of his movements – seems to have dissipated, and what replaces that sense of doubt is making Haruka’s heart race in anticipation.

 

“That’s why we’re here,” Haruka releases the words past his lips, and he dashes forward, branch-sword raised to his eye level and his shape merely a blur with his impeccable speed. About two paces before he reaches Sousuke’s waiting swords, Haruka ascends into a powerful jump, both of his hands holding onto the hilt as he swipes down with deadly accuracy.

 

When Sousuke receives the downward swing with his dominant hand, he can feel the surging momentum of Haruka’s Fuyukaze Hekisui Ryū – waves upon unyielding waves towering over him, each more potent than the last – and his arm shakes from the effort of holding Haruka in check. He flicks the blue-eyed man’s branch to the side with a resolute grunt and positions himself dangerously close within Haruka’s range.

 

While Haruka is distracted by the double-blade wielder’s next move, Sousuke doesn’t allow enough time for the other man to recover and uses their proximity to his advantage, his looming body easily overpowering Haruka’s slender frame when he succeeds in intertwining Haruka’s sword with his own.

 

He imagines the supple willow branch held within his grasp as an extension of his arm – his wing – and estimates Haruka’s movements from the subtle vibrations and the directions they originate from, before he uses nimble swipes to disentangle himself from Haruka.

 

The blue-eyed swordsman is not subsiding, either, for when he has regained his footing, he runs straight towards Sousuke again. Haruka’s usual discretion and serenity have been all but casted off, and for the first time in months, Sousuke sees with trembling delight the animalistic instinct glimmering in those ice blue eye darkened by the night and the desire for victory.

 

He’s been anticipating Haruka’s next move – from the smooth motion of his strides and the direction of his path, and with his branch poised straight and gracefully arched, Sousuke can predict his opponent’s attack – and before Haruka can even initiate the lunging thrust aiming for the other man’s heart, Sousuke sidesteps to the right and slashes in a diagonal line with the branch wielded in his left hand, hoping to drag Haruka’s sword out of the way while also dealing a gash across his torso.

 

With a dull strike, Haruka’s branch is shoved away, but the agile swordsman averts Sousuke’s attack by a quick, delicate spin to the opposite direction so that the teal-eyed man only strikes air as the branch whistles through the current of the breeze.

 

Sousuke has anticipated this as well, and so being half a step ahead, he also turns, like a haunting shadow behind Haruka, the sword in his right hand raised in readiness and teal eyes gleaming with calculation and purpose – like a daring animal caging in for the final kill – he strikes down towards Haruka’s fully exposed back.

 

Yet, Nanase Haruka isn’t known as one of the legendary swordsmen of their generation for nothing, and Sousuke should have known better, because he realizes belatedly that the blue-eyed man has already swivelled around, his branch poised before his chest just as Sousuke’s branch lands a striking blow against his.

 

What neither of them has expected is this: the momentum instigated by Haruka’s quick spin to counterattack, in addition to the weight of Sousuke’s downward swing, causes not only Haruka to lose his footing and begin to fall backwards, but the crackling of Haruka’s temporary sword also signifies that Sousuke’s powerful strike has rendered his opponent’s weapon broken and useless.

 

Sousuke’s makeshift sword rests squarely on Haruka’s torso with a firm tap before either of them touches ground.

 

With a pained grunt, Haruka crumples onto the grass, panting and hungrily swallowing gulps of air, one half of his weapon laid discarded by his side. Sousuke almost lands directly on top of him, but his reflexes allow him to roll to the side and land on his knees instead.

 

A warm bubble of laughter wells up inside him – like some sort of wound up emotion stored inside for too long, covered in dust – and Haruka lets it out, a soft gentle sound, refined like silk but with a trace of childish abandonment laced within it, and he can’t stop.

 

It’s the first time Sousuke has heard such a carefree sound coming from the usually reserved man.

 

When the buoyant laughter finally subsides to a long, breathless sigh, Sousuke drops his branches and crawls towards Haruka who’s still lying face-up on the ground, one hand placed over the left side of his chest.

 

Sousuke’s dark brows draw together in a slight frown.

 

“Are you letting me off easy, Nanase?” Ever since they’ve resided together, Sousuke has only ever addressed Haruka without an honorific whenever he’s irritated or furious about something.

 

Haruka turns his head marginally so that their eyes can meet. A small smile lines the man’s lips, eyes flickering a vibrant blue and his cheeks flushed from the exertion of their exchange, and Sousuke finds his heart has resumed its racing, thundering beat. It’s almost impossible to breath.

 

“I dare not do such a thing. I have too much respect for you as a fellow swordsman to dishonour you like that.”

 

“But the willow branch…” Sousuke’s gaze strays to the broken bough, one half of which is still held in Haruka’s hand.

 

“The willow is well-known for its pliability and resilience, but it is not indestructible,” Haruka passes him the remnant of the branch and Sousuke takes it into his hand, the warmth from Haruka’s skin still palpable on the bark. “It must have been by the power of your sword-style that the branch is broken.”

 

“That means I win.”

 

It’s thanks to Haruka’s counsel, Sousuke knows that, and he offers him his hand in silent gratitude.

 

“This time,” Haruka relents with a twitch of his lips – a sign of his amusement – and it disappears before Sousuke can comment on it, “I suppose so.”

 

Without any hesitation, and twinkling eyes locked onto Sousuke’s teal gaze, Haruka takes his hand – feverishly warm and calloused, scarred – and allows the taller man to pull him back to his feet.

 

Sousuke doesn’t let go when Haruka’s fingers relaxed around his, not this time. The adrenaline rushing in his bloodstream leaves him more reckless than usual, and the veil of the summer night gives him a sense of fearlessness that’s slightly different from the frenzied yearning that drives him into a kind of instinctive madness in battle.

 

“Then will I be rewarded?” Sousuke’s crooked smile grows wide – wolfish, mischievous.

 

Their fingers are still loosely intertwined, and neither of them seems to have the desire to pull away. Haruka merely raises his brows in a sardonic expression, but the playful glimmer in his eyes is evident.

 

Perhaps it’s time for them to end this little game – the lingering touches that have meant so much more, the fleeting glances that they’ve shared for the past months but were too afraid to pursue the implication of.

 

“Just this once,” Haruka allows in a silvery voice, though his tone reveals nothing else. “So, what do you wish for?”

 

“You.” Sousuke’s grasp on the other swordsman’s fingers tightens with his confession, and he senses Haruka responds with a start, blue eyes blinking back at him owlishly.

 

Surely, Sousuke has not read the situation wrong, or has he mistaken Haruka’s intention right from the start? He wishes he would respond, because this kind of silence – waiting, waning – is suffocating and it’s making Sousuke regret his decision with each passing second.

 

The burst of confusion is short-lived, however.

 

“You’ll have to be a little more specific than that, Yamazaki-san,” Haruka’s unexpected retort has taken Sousuke aback when he sees a trace of a teasing smile along his lips, full and rosy in the milky strands of moonlight. Tendrils of his sweat-slicked hair flow over his shoulder in a cascade of blue-black waterfall.

 

“You know what I mean,” Sousuke tugs him closer until they’re facing each other with a mere half-inch of space separating them. Sousuke’s other hand snakes around his waist and settles on the small of his back.

 

Haruka’s breaths are gradually accelerating, but it has nothing to do with their previous training session; small puffs of warm air against his cheek make Sousuke tilt Haruka’s head so that heated sea-green meets tempestuous azure. “You know what I’m asking for.”

 

Releasing his hand, Sousuke reaches up to cradle Haruka’s jaw, the gesture uncharacteristically gentle, and the flickering flames in his eyes simmers down into something more tender, a warmer green without the threatening sharp edges, and Haruka finds himself impossibly lost and speechless for once.

 

“Then I’m yours,” Haruka tells him, earnest blue eyes staring back at him with such raw intensity and his voice low and painfully honest, as Sousuke runs a thumb across the man’s lower lip that lightly trembles at his touch.

 

When Sousuke lowers his head, eyes half-lidded and fingers dragging into his dark tresses at the nape of his neck, Haruka’s eyes flutter close, and their lips touch in a chaste kiss – almost too polite.

 

The kiss seems to have sliced through the binding chains within Haruka though, because when Sousuke is about to draw back, Haruka claws at the back of Sousuke’s haori with a tiny growl and pulls him in even closer, chest bumping against chest, and Sousuke releases a surprised yelp and a half-formed “Nanase…?!” before being dragged down for another kiss.

 

This one is much less sweet and innocent, more teeth biting and teasing lower lips until they grow sensitive and red, and tongues delving in wantonly to taste, to want. Haruka’s fingers trace across the teal-eyed man’s cheekbone, down the column of his neck, and finally rest on his broad shoulder, fisting the material of his haori and whimpering when Sousuke gives an especially vicious nip to his lower lip and lets out a husky laugh at Haruka’s instantaneous reaction.

 

The sound seems to have awoken Haruka from his daze, and he takes a step back, breaths ragged and lips swollen and temptingly red. The drunken dark haze in his irises dissipates as the sharp acuity of reason returns, his eyes narrowing in an accusing glare.

 

Sousuke only laughs harder, the hoarse yet honeyed hue of his voice ringing thick and pleasant in Haruka’s ears.

 

“Don’t get too accustomed to this, Yamazaki-san.” Even as he scolds the taller swordsman in a quiet tone, Haruka can feel his cheeks growing uncomfortably warm; his fingers can still remember the remnant heat of Sousuke’s skin.

 

The blue-eyed swordsman begins to pick up their branches and makes his way out of the courtyard by the east entrance, his steps lithe and each movement elegantly measured.

 

“But you’re not opposed to a continuation of what we’ve started.” Sousuke doesn’t pose it as a question but as a statement. He easily falls into step with Haruka.

 

“You may interpret it however you like.”

 

Sousuke will gladly take that as an affirmative.

**Author's Note:**

> Ohmygod. Okay. If you’ve read up until this point, hello and thank you! I hope that you’ve enjoyed this fic as much as I’ve enjoyed torturing myself while writing this fic. Sword-fighting is my jam, but I feel like I need more practicing writing these kind of scenes. It’ll also give me an excuse to read Rurouni Kenshin and watch more wuxia dramas.


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